


Need for Speed

by SoDoLaFaMiDoRe



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Classism, Festival of the FIve, M/M, Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoDoLaFaMiDoRe/pseuds/SoDoLaFaMiDoRe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knockout decides it's high time to make his relationship with Breakdown public on Speedia, in the most memorable way possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need for Speed

**Author's Note:**

> Uneditied, will be edited at a later date

Honestly, meeting the big lug had to have been fate for Knockout. He’d been racing from Delta to Speedia against some of his racing buddies when a dust storm had kicked up and started clogging his vents.

He’d been so focused on clearing out his intake, he hadn’t noticed the blue truck meandering in the haze until he’d run right into him. That had led to both instinctively transforming and getting their plating caught, and a long walk to the nearest settlement to get unstuck.

It was comical how much they’d bickered at first, but with about 3 days until they could get help, and Knockout knew it would take weeks to fix his finish. The mech introduced himself as Breakdown, one of the Maintnee’s that helped keep the roads in top condition. Of all the rotten luck, Knockout had been stuck to a mech who couldn’t break Mach 1 if Unicron himself appeared.

He’d proven insightful though, when they’d both calmed down from their respective frustrations at being stuck together. They had talked about different subjects, the mech called Breakdown mentioning he listened to one of the more educational radio stations whenever his work had him near one of the main hubs. By the second day of being stuck Knockout was telling him how he maximized mech’s engines and frames for racing.

Getting unstuck at the closest medical clinic had been an ordeal unto itself, the medic cracking jokes at their expense and making some nasty comments to Breakdown. That moment had shocked Knockout, as the mech acted completely differently from the one he’d met in the desert. Out there, he’d seemed strong, even-tempered and sharp as a tire shredder. Under the medic’s harsh words and rough treatment he seemed to withdraw in himself, just staring blankly as plating was given the most minimum effort to be undented and repaired.

Knockout hadn’t given a thought to the road repair crews then. He knew their altmode’s tended to be slow and bulky, and they were physically unable to enter the political races due to their frames, but he'd mostly ignored them as beneath his notice. When they walked out of the clinic, Breakdown was quiet, even when Knockout attempted to get him talking. 

They’d exchanged comm numbers, and over the next couple of months would talk whenever Breakdown was around. They had conversations on nearly every topic under the sun, from the hardships of attempting to fine-tune a lost of unnecessary kibble on mechs for Knockout, to Breakdown giving some creative tips on how to get grit out of an axle when unable to transform from alt mode.

Knockout hadn’t even realized it when it crept up on him, but after 3 vorns of interacting with the mech, from late-cycle comm calls to supportive pings during harsh weather or tough medical exams, it hit him like an Astrotrain when he realized what the giddy spin in his spark was.

It had taken a vorn more of heavier flirting before Knockout had been able to take a shift off and visit Breakdown, going out to one of the nicer hole-in-the-wall energon bars of Speedia. The atmosphere had been cozy and dark, the highgrade surprising well-flavored, and even after near daily pings and comm calls for vorns, neither mech had seemed to run out of things to talk about, even when they’d lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Knockout hadn’t realized that they’d moved closer together until their stabilizers were touching, spark whirling quickly from the charge of the engex and the low hum of cooling fans. He never quite knew whether he could pin it on the engex, their meshed fields, or the warm darkness of the bar, but the conversation died as Knockout turned to ask a question.

Breakdown was paused, waiting for him to speak, but all he could think of was how nice his faceplates looked tinted pink from the energon, and how much he wanted to kiss him. 

So he did, and Breakdown responded, and they’d left probably more than their tab paid on the table as they walked out into the night, stumbling overcharged, kissing, and laughing at nothing until they somehow found their way to Knockout’s apartment and passed out on the berth sprawled over each other, Knockout waking up cuddled to a strong chest.

Over the next few months, things had gone on in secret, visiting each other in cities they wouldn’t be recognized and planning date-nights in their apartment. With Maintnees lower status in society, a relationship was highly frowned upon and probably would have led to too much violence if it went public.

After nearly 5 vorns of being together, with a small anniversary celebration involving high grade and a very cheesy romcom, the progressive overcharging through the night led to emotions running high when the main couple went through with their bonding ceremony. 

After a night of crying, the next day Speedia began to prepare once again for the Festival of the Five. As the day wore on, after Breakdown had had to leave to spend a few days out in the boonies of Velocitron for road repair, an idea had bloomed in Knockout’s racing processor. He knew exactly how to make a mech’s frame light, what drove them faster and what could be shed in the pursuit of speed.

He was also one of the fastest mechs he knew. But he could be so much faster if he did a few necessary, if risky adjustments.

By the time Breakdown had returned, Knockout had sent in an application for the race and was plotting in a datapa what he could afford to lose and what needed a boost. Even with the thoughts of the race heavily on his helm, it was easy to fuss over his partner and force him through a thorough cleaning to keep the sand out of his joints.

When Breakdown was a puddle of organic goo it was easy to glean his work schedule for the next vorn, repairing one of the major thoroughfares from Speedia to Delta for the race. With that plan, it gave him a timeline for how long he had to do the risky surgery, get the mildly necessary organs stored, and be near fully recovered so his mate wouldn’t be suspicious.

\-----

The race had been exhilarating. Every bot who wasn’t designated to help with the race preparations was given the holiday off to watch the race, and Knockout knew Breakdown was in one of the cheaper seats that were reserved for the second class mechs. 

Zipping across the finish line and flipping into root mode, his audios were distorted as the roar of the crowd deafend all other noises except his fuel pump rushing in his audios. Attempting to keep standing as his gyros attempted to stabilize, the race officials from the city rushed to help him to the winners podium, someone passing a cube of special recovery blend into his servos as he stumbled up the stairs and onto the dias.

Staring at the crowd, Knockout attempted to make out his sparkmate in the crowd, barely noticing as the officials spoke the traditional lines until they held a microphone in front of his faceplates and asked him what he wished for with Primus’ blessing as the winner of the race.

It took a moment for his vocalizer to turn on, steadying his processor as he parsed the glyphs to make sure their modifiers would have the fullest meaning possible in their sounds. “In the name of Primus, the giver of racing and speed, and in front of all of Delta, I ask Breakdown of Speedia to be my Conjux Endura.” 

The crowd’s excited whispers died to a confused murmur. A name like Breakdown wasn’t one given to a racer, or any mech with enough basic social respect not to be given a name that would mark them as a terrible racer. When the vidscreen over the podium broadcasting the race flashed with the I.D. of the mech, the murmurs turned more indignant.

But Knockout wasn’t focused on how the crowd felt. As the race officials helped Breakdown up to the stage, it was all he could do to keep his spark from leaping out his throat as he attempted to see Breakdown’s reactions, attempting to prepare himself for being turned down and humiliated in front of all of Speedia.

Breakdown’s faceplates were very neutral, nearly the same mask as the one he’d placed on when they’d first had to go to a medic to get unstuck, all those vorns ago. Knockout could feel the parts of his fuel tank he hadn’t surgically removed sink into his pedes. 

Well, the race had been won fairly, so this wasn’t a place anymech had a right to interfere with. When Breakdown and Knockout were stood facing the crowd, the race officials turned to the crowd to recite some of the more ritual phrases before the final questions on the bonding would be asked. Knockout felt a small tap to his forearm as Breakdown kept his face blankly ahead.

“Is this a joke?” In any other context, the question would have been absurd, but even with his audials still ringing from some of the harder crashes Knockout had taken, he could hear the note of uncertainty in Breakdown’s tone. That hint of doubt in Knockout’s sincerity was enough to make him think of how this situation could appear to the other mech, especially considering his entire position in the situation.

Sneaking a servo into Breakdown’s, he pinged him a small packet on his commline as their fingers entangled. It was a small databurst of images and feelings, but Knockout hoped it was enough, along with the race, to prove his sincerity.

“Knockout of Delta, it is true you are asking, in front of Speedia, Velocitron, and Primus, for the right to bond with Breakdown of Speedia?” The words were ritual, but the tone held much more suspicion and disdain than usual.

“In the name of Primus, I humbly request.” He attempted to keep the pleading note out of his tone.

“Breakdown of Speedia, do you accept, in the spirit of racing and in the name of Primus?”

A tightening to Knockout’s servo as the answer was vocalized. “I accept.”

His spark leapt back up to its chamber as he turned to Breakdown, his fears dissipating as he saw the expression on the other’s faceplates. Smiling, he threw himself at the mech, crashing their lipplates together as Breakdown caught him around the middle and stumbled backwards.

The crowd began to join in on their excitement, shouting congratulations as the race officials led them away to the suite set up for the winners.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
